Date: 1742

"Then welcome, Death, thy dreaded harbingers, / Age and Disease: Disease, though long my guest,-- / That plucks my nerves, those tender strings of life; / Which, pluck'd a little more, will toll the bell / That calls my few friends to my funeral."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1777

"For the mind is an instrument, which, if wound too high, will lose its sweetness, and if not enough strained, will abate of its vigour."

— More, Hannah (1745-1833)

Date: 1780

"If my eventful tale / Hath touch'd the chords of pity in your heart, / And swell'd the sympathetic tear--soft tribute! / By gentle minds, to sorrow ever paid, / --Know, 'tis no stranger's woes I have related; / I am the object of my own sad story."

— Cowley [née Parkhouse], Hannah (1743-1809)

Date: 1782

"Where are those cunning men, / Who boast, by chosen sounds, and measur'd sweetness, / To set the busy spirits in a flame, / And cool them at their will? who know the art / To call the hidden pow'rs of numbers forth, / And make that pliant instrument, the mind, / Yield to the pow'rful sympathy of...

— More, Hannah (1745-1833)